A Shattering Blow
Malrik’s breathing was ragged, his movements frantic as he tried to summon more power from the waning Moon Amulet. The battlefield around him was collapsing—shadows dissolving into nothingness, his wolves retreating in confusion, their unnatural ferocity extinguished.
“You think you’ve won?” Malrik rasped, his voice thin but still defiant. He stumbled back, his gaunt frame trembling under the weight of his own desperation. “The Moon Amulet’s power isn’t mine alone. It will live on, even if I—”
Draven cut him off with a feral roar, lunging forward with unstoppable force. His claws struck true, rending through Malrik’s chest with a sickening sound. Malrik gasped, his gray eyes widening in shock and pain. The Moon Amulet slipped from his grasp, its faint glow sputtering before fading entirely.
Malrik crumpled to the ground, his body folding like a broken marionette. His last breath escaped in a guttural whisper, lost to the silence that descended over the battlefield.
Isla staggered, her strength finally failing her as the intensity of her light dimmed. Her legs buckled, and she collapsed into Draven’s waiting arms. He caught her easily, holding her close as her silver eyes fluttered closed in exhaustion.
“It’s over,” she whispered, her voice faint but resolute.
Draven pressed a kiss to her forehead, his amber eyes softening as he cradled her against his chest. “It’s over because of you,” he murmured, his voice fierce yet tender.
Around them, the wolves of Crimson Fang lifted their voices in a victorious howl, the sound echoing across the battlefield. As the first rays of dawn broke over the horizon, the warm light of the sun replaced the dark shroud that had hung over the pack.
But Isla’s relief was fleeting. Even as she was carried back to the camp, her thoughts turned to her children. “Micah,” she murmured hoarsely, her voice cracking. “The twins… they’re safe with her. They have to be.”
Draven hesitated for a fraction of a second, the faintest flicker of unease crossing his face. “They’re safe,” he said firmly, though the edge in his voice didn’t escape her notice.
As the camp came into view, Isla was rushed to the healer’s tent. She fought against the haze of exhaustion and pain, her heart heavy with worry. Until she saw her children again—until she knew for certain they were out of harm’s reach—there would be no peace for her soul.
